Dreams For Sale On Florida Houseboat

March 10, 1985|By Rick Sylvain, Knight-Ridder Newspapers.

DELAND, FLA. — I was being watched, and I knew it. Those huge birds on the riverbank, the fish spurting out of the calm, coffee-colored water weren`t the mechanical likes of an amusement-park river ride.

They were real and beautiful, and they were part of what makes houseboating on the St. Johns River an invigorating, pleasurable magic carpet through a Florida that tourists seldom see.

I glided along trackless stretches of river where not a house or a sign

--not even a clearing--was visible for miles.

All I could see were soaring cabal palms and purplish wildflowers, oaks hung with Spanish moss, great blue herons etched against a flaming sunset, frogs ribbeting among the water hyacinths and butterflies, egrets perched in cypress trees, fish splashing in the water and enough pristine beauty to make you swear off neon forever.

``This is probably the way the Spanish found things 500 years ago,`` said Terry Adolph, who runs Sunshine Line, the largest renter of houseboats. ``Most of this is a wildlife preserve. It`s beautiful. It`s quiet. It`s why people come back.``

The herons were an awesome sight, but my favorite bird was the Anhinga. I spotted one along the approaches to Beresford Lake. The Anhinga is a good swimmer and excellent fisherman. But until his wings dry out, he`s grounded.

So there he stood among the river grasses, wings spread wide in the warming sun. He looked like a crucifix of feathers--or an umpire signaling

Ever since he moved here from running houseboats in France, Terry Adolph has been hooked on this lazy river.

``You can hear alligators barking at night, frogs croaking, cicadas chirping in the woods,`` he said. ``Next morning, you can be fishing off your houseboat for breakfast. There`s nothing magic or gold-plated about it. This is a means to get away from it all. I`m selling dreams.``

Nights on the river are to relish. Anchored in an elbow of backwater across from Blue Springs State Park one evening, I slipped up to the roof of my houseboat. The water was mirror-still, bathed in the soft light of a peach moon.

Grunts, splashes and gurgles pierced the quiet. I didn`t know what it was. Didn`t want to find out.

Blue Springs is the place to tie up your houseboat and explore. A boardwalk follows a sun-dappled, clear-water lagoon in a thicket of oak, myrtle and palmettos. Scuba divers with bravado can drop down into its source: a spring in which 104 million gallons a day of 72-degree water bubble up through a throat of limestone.

The cypress grove is the winter refuge of the manatee, the shy sea cow. Swampy areas do have mosquitos, so bring bug spray.

Other springs along the river make nice anchorages. De Leon Springs, for one, is thought to be the original fountain of youth.

Hontoon Island State Park, reachable only by boat, is a nature preserve that`s fun to explore. From Sunshine, houseboaters can range 60 miles north to Jacksonville or south to Lake Monroe.

You do not want for much on these boats. Refrigerator, gas range, double beds and bed linens, full bath, kitchen utensils--even an outdoor grill on the foredeck--all the comforts of home are there.

Prices are less than you would pay for a room at one of those swanky Florida resorts--and this room floats.

Operating them is--well, imagine putting a steering wheel on your garage. They are bulky and lumber up the river at less than breakneck speed.

But the operation is easily learned. Before he gave me a ``good luck, skipper`` sendoff, Ted, a marina hand, took me through the fine points and let me test-drive my houseboat on the river.

During my maiden voyage alone, I absentmindedly left the St. Johns River for the fun-sounding Dead River. Would I ever return, I thought? Was this the edge of the Earth? It was time to put my lesson in turning around into actual practice.

I wheeled in the Dead River too wide and rammed into the opposite bank, startling a pair of anglers fishing for speckled perch. Unbowed, I casually backed my house out of the trees and nosed it back on course.

Soon the birds and fish were at it again. It was so peaceful, miles from anything. I popped on a music tape, sat back and relaxed. Rolling on a river. Information: Sunshine Line, Box 3558, Holly Bluff Marina, Deland, Fla. 32723; 904-736-9422.